


Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons

by stardustbunny



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - MAMA (EXO Music Video), M/M, Minor Violence, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustbunny/pseuds/stardustbunny
Summary: Jongdae has known for a long time now that he’d be willing to do anything in the world for him. He would do the absolute worst for him, die for him, very well rip the beating heart right out of a man’s chest for him. He could never deny Zitao of anything.





	Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by ohsh's [Lichtenberg Figure](http://ohsh-exo.tumblr.com/post/122120503206/ohsh-it-mamaau-injuries-chen-lichtenberg/) and leftfoottrapped's [Half-life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770911). Title comes from a lyric in Hozier's song "Arsonist's Lullabye." 
> 
> Warnings: language, descriptions of violence, scarring, and blood, implications of self harm and murder

Zitao lunges at Jongdae and wraps his arms around his neck, choking him in a vicious grip as he drags him backwards. Zitao had caught him off guard. He doesn’t have a second to lose. The half a breath in his lungs is running out quickly, so Jongdae claws at Zitao’s arms and tries to pull them down and away from him with as much force as he can muster.

In his panic, he remembers that he can distract Zitao if he can’t overpower him. He stomps his foot onto Zitao’s, and thankfully this causes Zitao to stagger and loosen his grip. Now at a better angle, Jongdae throws his left elbow up and back towards Zitao’s jaw in an attempt of disorienting him and breaking free from his grip entirely.

But he never even gets the chance to because Zitao is stronger than Jongdae with so much more stamina and a higher tolerance for pain. One of his arms slides down and crushes Jongdae’s elbows against his sides, blocking his attack. Zitao’s movements are so quick and efficient that Jongdae barely even registers what's happening. With an arm still circled around Jongdae’s torso, Zitao throws all of his weight forward and flips them around, and they come crashing down to the grass together. The wind is knocked completely out of Jongdae’s chest as he lands flat on his back.

“I win,” Zitao says, a teasing lilt to his voice. He's sitting on top of Jongdae and pinning his shoulders to the ground, his eyes sparking with mischief.

Jongdae frowns and struggles against his grip. He tries to throw him off the way Zitao had showed him earlier, but he doesn’t even budge, not surprising considering Zitao has years of wushu training over him.

“That’s not fair,” Jongdae complains, a little breathless. “You said we were just gonna do a demonstration round first.” He can hear the whine in his voice and winces.

“Yeah, but then I changed my mind,” he says playfully.

Jongdae rolls his eyes and admits defeat, lying back and letting himself relax. It's been a few hours since Zitao has started his lesson, and he's grateful for the soft breeze that floats by and cools him down. “I really shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.” He reaches up to squeeze Zitao’s elbow. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks.

Zitao shakes his head. He shifts to free Jongdae’s shoulders, still hovering over him. “No, I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’m fucking tired if I’m gonna be honest,” he sighs.

“Ge, you’re so out of shape.” Zitao tries and fails to hold back a laugh. “Maybe you should start working out with me. I can’t properly teach you any self defense techniques if you can’t even fight me for five minutes.”

Jongdae splutters indignantly. “Excuse me, okay first of all, you were the one who cheated,” he complains. “Second of all, you were supposed to be teaching me. And third, we've been going at this for much longer than five minutes now and you know that.”

“Well, the world doesn’t play fair, ge. I’m actually doing you a favor, you know,” Zitao says, in an attempt to sound sagely, though his haughty smile betrayed him. “Just call it tough love.”

Jongdae heaves a sigh. He watches Zitao, eyes sharp and bright, this handsome even after a long day of training. He reaches up to squeeze the back of his neck, undeniably and hopelessly fond. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks.

Zitao leans into his touch, before leaning down to press kisses all over Jongdae’s face in a silent apology. His lips are soft against his skin, learned in the way that they easily trace the angles of his face without ever hesitating.

They kiss slowly, sweetly until Jongdae cards a hand through Zitao’s hair and licks across the seam of his lips. He revels in the way Zitao opens up so easily for him, shows him how he _belongs_ to him fully and completely. Jongdae kisses him, and takes, and takes, and takes, until they’re both trying to catch their breath and Zitao’s lips are a charming shade of red. Jongdae leans up to press his lips against Zitao’s again, asking for nothing more this time than for him to come down and lie in his arms.

So Zitao does, tucking his head into the crook of Jongdae’s shoulder as they watch the brilliant golden sunset fade away into the deepest shades of the night.

*******

_On the day the moon consumes the sun,_

_The Twelve Powers will come together as one._

_Lunar Sisters open their eyes,_

_Upon the planet's corruption and demise._

_Blinded by red and purged to hell,_

_Lost for eternity, only time will tell._

“Do you think the Prophecy will come true one day, Chenchen?” Zitao asks Jongdae.

Jongdae glances over at him. He’s dressed in that soft grey hoodie Jongdae likes to borrow, looking warm and comfy while sprawled out on the couch, balancing a book upright on his chest. They’ve been snowed in for two days now and have taken to amusing themselves by going through their old university textbooks that they never got around to selling back to the bookstore.

Jongdae hums for a moment. “I don’t really know. I guess I wouldn’t really be surprised if it did come true. I mean, I feel like there are probably powers greater than us out there somewhere, but even if there were who are we as humans to understand them? If the Prophecy came from the Goddess through a human, it’s bound to be flawed somehow.”

Zitao lets the book fall onto his chest with a solid _thud_. “It sounds horrible, so I hope it doesn’t, at least not in our lifetime.” He grins at Jongdae. “I haven’t even bought my Maserati yet.”

This makes Jongdae snicker. “Yeah, but not just any Maserati,” he corrects. “It has to be a convertible. And we can’t forget the garage full of Lambos.”

Zitao lets out a delighted peal of laughter. “You know me so well.”

Jongdae gets up from his spot on the carpet and walks over to Zitao. He takes the book off of him, pulls a knee up onto the couch, and Zitao immediately tangles him up in his arms, letting Jongdae nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, did you just come here so I can warm you up?” Zitao says with mock offense. “You’re freezing.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you, Taozi,” Jongdae plays along, still tucked in against him. “Here I am trying to cuddle with my boyfriend and all you can think is that I would just use you as my own personal heater… I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jongdae can feel the way Zitao’s chest lifts up and down in laughter. That alone is enough to make him feel warmer. They lie in a comfortable silence for a while. Zitao starts stroking the back of Jongdae’s head absentmindedly, and Jongdae is so comfortable that he almost falls asleep until Zitao asks another question.

“What would happen if the Prophecy did come true while we’re alive?”

Jongdae leans up to look at him this time. Zitao seems more somber now while he stares at the dark window in a quiet wonder, the golden light from the incandescent bulb casting shadows across his face.

“You know how some people believe the Twelve Powers and the Lunar Sisters are gods that are going to wipe out the human race for being the corruption of the planet? So do we just… disappear or are we purged to hell?” Zitao continues. “But then there’s also that theory that the Twelve Powers are going to save us and bring us to heaven right before the Lunar Sisters destroy the planet. So what happens in heaven?” Zitao grimaces and rests his head back against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really sound great either way. Either we all get killed, or our home and everything we know are going to be destroyed.”

“Heaven is supposed to be even more beautiful than what we know though,” Jongdae murmurs. Zitao still has more to say, by the look of concentration furrowed in his brows, so Jongdae waits before adding anything more.

Zitao makes a sound in agreement. “But still. There’s something really unsettling about it. Who even knows if we’re all going to make it to heaven anyways?”

Jongdae reaches up to run a hand through Zitao’s hair, brushing his fringe back in soothing motions. “Maybe the Prophecy doesn’t guarantee it, but if there is a heaven, I know that you’d make it there.”

He leans into Jongdae’s touch and presses his cheek against his palm. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Zitao asks.

“No, I mean it,” he responds truthfully. “You have a good heart. You’re always loving and giving even when it hurts you.” He lets the fondness seep into his voice, a rare, vulnerable gesture on his part, as he strokes Zitao’s cheek with his thumb. “A person like you deserves to go to heaven. You have all of the best things in you that this world can offer. It doesn’t take a god to see that.”

Zitao seems more reassured as his expression relaxes but Jongdae can tell there’s still something bothering him. “But what about you? Do you think you’ll go to heaven too?”

 _Oh_. Jongdae feels his stomach drop and chest tighten as realization settles into him: Zitao wants to know if he’s going to be there with him. He wants them to go to heaven together. Jongdae can see it in the way Zitao is watching him, eyes widened in expectation as he searches his face for an answer.

It’s a good question—one that Jongdae doesn’t really know if he has a proper answer for, at least not one that he thinks Zitao would like. Jongdae is all too aware of his own flaws and shortcomings. He’s too short tempered, too stubborn, too spiteful, just to name a few. He can’t even hold up to his own standards of what he thinks a good person should be, so how could he possibly be worthy of the approval of the gods who know all and see all, who could tear him apart and lay out every single one of his weaknesses vulnerable for the universe to see?

Jongdae settles back down to rest his head on Zitao’s chest, tucked in against his side. “Demons like me don’t have a place in heaven, Taozi,” he replies, playing it off as a joke. Something about those words makes his chest ache, and he nuzzles in even closer to him.

“Jongdae, I’m serious,” Zitao insists, voice fierce with determination.

Jongdae glances up and is met with eyes so sharp that they almost intimidate him. Zitao captures Jongdae’s hands in his and intertwines their fingers together. “I don’t ever want to be without you, so if I’m going to go to heaven then you have to be there with me.”

There’s something about this that feels all too real, like they’re being wrapped in a thick sense of foreboding that’s listening in to their every word. It makes Jongdae mull over what he says next. “What would happen if I didn’t make it to heaven?”

Zitao pulls his eyebrows together in a mixture of concentration and annoyance at Jongdae’s deflection. “I don’t want that to happen,” he says. “I’d probably drag you out of hell myself if I had to. Or just stay down there with you.”

Jongdae gently tugs their hands closer and kisses the edge of Zitao’s finger, resting his chin against their knuckles. “I wouldn’t let you do that,” he says.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “So that’s why you have to be there in heaven with me to begin with. That’s why you _will_ be there with me.”

Jongdae stares at Zitao for a moment, and he can’t help but let a small smile tug on his lips, so utterly and completely endeared. He untangles their hands and tilts his head up towards Zitao who meets him halfway for a gentle, close mouthed kiss.

“You're really something else, you know that?” Jongdae mumbles against his lips. He runs his fingers through Zitao’s hair.

“Mm, haven’t answered me properly yet,” Zitao grumbles in response. He doesn’t stop Jongdae from kissing him again though.

Jongdae pushes himself up from Zitao’s chest, looking at him and how his skin glows warm and golden even in the low light. His jet black hair is soft and tousled, a little bit of a mess from not having styled it in a while, and he smells like their soap and shampoo and the detergent they get from the little convenience store around the corner—like home.

He loves Zitao.

God, he really loves Zitao.

Jongdae has known for a long time now that he’d be willing to do anything in the world for him. He would do the absolute worst for him, die for him, very well rip the beating heart right out of a man’s chest for him. He could never deny Zitao of anything.

So who would Jongdae be to deny him the chance of heaven together? He could be good—he could be better, do better for him. And even though the anxiety claws at his throat and makes his chest feel too tight, reminds him of how inadequate he is, he knows he could change that for Zitao. He knows that he _will_.

“Hey,” Jongdae says.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be there with you,” he says, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. “No matter where that is, whether that’s heaven or hell, or whatever else that’s out there waiting for us, I’ll always be by your side.”

Zitao breaks out into a grin, bright and wide. “Do you promise?” he asks.

Jongdae leans in to press a kiss on his forehead. “Yes, I promise.”

Zitao wraps his arms around Jongdae and hugs him close against his chest. He turns them over so they’re lying on their sides, pressed close together on the small couch. Jongdae can’t imagine a better place to be.

*******

Something feels very off to Jongdae, some indescribable, heavy feeling that bothers him the minute he and Zitao step out of their apartment. They’re just on their way to the grocery store to do their shopping for the week. Zitao has a few tote bags in hand and Jongdae has the list of what they need scrawled by the both of them in various different types of pens. It’s all very usual and routine, but…

Zitao wraps an arm around Jongdae’s waist and tugs him in against him. “Chenchen, be careful,” he says.

A biker speeds past them on the path that Jongdae was on.

“Thank you, Taozi,” Jongdae says, turning back to glare at the biker who didn’t even slow down. He turns forward and shakes his head slightly as if to shake the feeling off with it.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. He slips his arm off of Jongdae’s waist and holds his hand instead.

“I just feel a little anxious,” Jongdae admits. “But I’m sure it’s gonna pass. Let’s just get our shopping done and go home.”

Zitao nods and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. Jongdae smiles at him and tilts his head up towards Zitao who leans down to peck his lips. They continue walking forward and not too long after make it to the crosslight just before the store. It’s eerily quiet for a late Saturday afternoon. No cars are on the streets, and there’s no one else at the normally bustling intersection. Jongdae can’t even make out the ambient sounds of cars rushing by in the distance. The only thing keeping them company is the orange sun making its way to the west, its warmth being stolen by the cold wind whistling by.

The crosslight turns green, and they make their way across to the grocery store which seems to be just as deserted. There are only a handful of cars in the parking lot, most of which probably belong to the employees anyway.

“They aren’t closed today are they?” Jongdae asks.

“They shouldn’t be,” Zitao says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types in the name of the store. “It says that they’re open until 23:00. We have a few more hours.”

They slow their pace as they get to the door which automatically slide open when they get close enough. They walk in through the threshold and see a cashier manning their station, slumped against the counter while they scroll through their phone. Jongdae shrugs, figuring that the store seem open enough, so he slips his hand out of Zitao’s to grab a shopping cart. He heads towards the produce section first to pick out some lettuce while Zitao goes to grab a dozen eggs.

Jongdae picks out a few heads of lettuce and looks for the roll of plastic bags to store them. He tears one off the roll, slipping the smooth material between his fingers to open it up. He drops the bag into his cart, about to go find Zitao until the deafening sound of breaking glass crashes into the room.

Jongdae flinches, instinctively ducking and covering his face with his arms. He peeks out when the sound stops and he doesn’t feel any debris hit him, and starts looking for Zitao.

“JONGDAE!” Zitao yells. He’s running down the aisle and captures Jongdae in his arms before he can even react. “Are you hurt?” he asks, searching him for any injuries.

“No,” Jongdae manages, realizing he's trembling slightly. “Are you okay? Did you see what happened?”

Zitao takes his hand and starts pulling him to the back of the store. “I'm okay. I think a car drove right through the front,” he says. “Come on, let's go through the emergency exit.”

Amidst his shock, Jongdae thinks to take out his phone and call the police. He presses it against his ear as they push through the exit door, relaying information to the operator on the other side.

“We’re walking back around to the front right now,” he says. “I don’t know if anyone got hurt. We just went through the—”

Jongdae stops short when he sees not one, but _five_ cars at the storefront. One car has managed to lodge itself through the glass doors, while the other four are crushed up against the now crumbling, concrete wall.

The reverse lights of all five black cars illuminate, and they start simultaneously backing up away from the grocery store. They each do a U-turn, and when they’ve turned completely to face Jongdae and Zitao, Jongdae realizes that there are no drivers in any of the seats.

“What the fuck,” Jongdae blurts out. “What’s going—”

He never gets to finish his sentence when all five cars rev their engines and come speeding towards them, tires squealing and smoking. Zitao heaves Jongdae away and starts running. Jongdae throws his phone into his pocket and breaks out into a full sprint. They weave their way into a residential area, and spotting an apartment complex, run towards it for shelter, but when Zitao yanks the door to the lobby, it’s locked tight.

“Please let us in!” he screams, banging his fists on the door.

After a few moments with no answer, Zitao leads them around the building. He’s looking for another way in, maybe a way up to at least get them off of the ground and out of danger of being run over. They soon find a fire escape and start climbing up the iron stairs. It rattles and clangs as they clamber their way up. When they’re on the second story, Jongdae and Zitao begin knocking on the windows on either side of the landing. They shout for help as loud as they can, but even though the lights are on inside, no one shows up.

“Chen, stand back. I’m going to break the window in,” Zitao commands. He steps as far back away as he can from the window and runs forward.

Before he can make contact, a violent shake and vibration makes them both lose their balance. Jongdae clutches to the guardrail to maintain his balance and Zitao braces himself against the wall. Jongdae looks down and is horrified when he sees two of the cars have found them and have started ramming themselves against the first level of the fire escape.

There’s another shake, this time one that undulates and makes the very building itself shiver: an earthquake. The supports start giving way, somehow being torn off of the very building, and Jongdae and Zitao start falling with it. They manage to clutch onto the guard railing, bracing themselves for the impact.

The top of the fire escape crashes onto the neighboring building, and they’re suspended barely a foot from the ground, miraculously unscathed. They don’t have time to celebrate though. The two cars, battered and beaten from being crushed under the pressure, start reversing frantically to get out. Taking that as their sign to leave, Zitao takes Jongdae’s hand again. They jump off from the landing and run.

Jongdae isn’t sure how long they’ve been running now, but the stitch that’s formed on his side is burning with such an intense ferocity that he feels tears stinging around the edges of his eyes. Zitao has led them through obscure back alleys, looking for more places to hide or to get off the ground. Everywhere they come across though is mysteriously locked up with not a single other person in sight.

The screeching of tires not far behind them makes Jongdae’s heart spike into his throat. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he breathes harshly.

“How could they have gotten to us this quickly?” Zitao says. “There’s no way…”

And just as if it had overheard their conversation, one of the cars screeches up to the opening at the end of the alley, the headlights blinding its high beams on them. They take off in the opposite direction.

A horrible metallic crunching noise makes Jongdae chance a glance behind him, and he sees that the car has forced its way through the too narrow alley. The side view mirrors tear off as it plows forward towards them, and the headlights flicker as the polycarbonate plastic cracks off from the pressure. Another car greets them at the other end of the alley, ramming its way towards them and rapidly closing in the distance between them.

Jongdae instinctively throws a hand out in front of him and a blinding flash of white hot lightning shoots straight for the car in front of them. It hits the engine dead on and stops the car in its track. The hood busts open, a pillar of smoke billowing its way out from the cracks.

Zitao turns around to the other car, only a centimeter away from them now, but it too has stopped. Stranger still are the pieces of plastic and sparks flying off from it suspended in mid-air and completely still, as if someone had hit the pause button on a scene in a movie.

They stand there, backs to each other, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths.

“What—just happened?” Zitao asks, breaking the silence.

Jongdae stares blankly at black smoke stinking of electrical burns and wonders if he had somehow imagined that lightning bolt. It seemed like it came right out of his palm. The image of it is burned into his memory—so clear and vivid—and yet he can’t make any sense of it.

Zitao tugs at Jongdae’s hand and motions for him to follow. He tentatively steps onto the paused car’s hood and pulls Jongdae up with him. They walk over the roof and jump off from the trunk, jogging away for safe measure. When they’re out of the alley, they look back and the paused car suddenly reanimates, crashing into the other at full force and totaling them both.

Jongdae hears a distinct crackling sound behind them and immediately whirls around. There's a thick layer of ice crawling its way across the asphalt, and with it comes the sound of squealing of tires trying to gain traction on the slippery street.

“Watch out!”

Zitao pulls Jongdae out of the way, and another black car comes careening down the street, spinning out of control before slamming right into one of the high rise buildings. Glass shatters everywhere, and the security alarms start blaring and echoing through the area. Two more cars follow, piling up against the other and lodging it further into the first floor of the building.

Two figures run up to the alley entrance, looking worse for wear as they stare at the wreckage ahead of them. The taller of the two glances at Jongdae and Zitao and acknowledges them with a nod.

“Are you guys okay?” he asks.

“We’re alive at least,” Jongdae says. He looks up at Zitao who makes a sound in agreement. “Were those cars chasing after you too?”

The other man turns to face them too. His eyes are sharp, catlike. They almost remind Jongdae of Zitao’s. “Yeah, they came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop chasing us,” he says. “We got those three, but I’m sure there were supposed to be five.”

Zitao points a thumb behind him. “If you’re looking for the other two, we managed to stop them back there.”

“That’s a relief.” The taller of the two breathes out a sigh. He has an accent—Chinese, Jongdae realizes, but it’s barely there. “We should probably find somewhere safe to wait it out for a while.”

“Yeah, for some reason I have a bad feeling there’s more where those things came from. Would you two wanna come with us?” the other asks hesitantly.

Jongdae and Zitao exchange glances.

 _Do you trust them?_ Zitao’s eyes ask him.

Jongdae offers him a ghost of a smile. _For now._

Zitao turns back to the two and nods. “Yeah, where were you guys thinking about going?”

“To the police station, probably. We should report what happened here—and get medical attention just in case. It’s just down the block from here. I’m kind of surprised they didn’t deploy anybody out with how much noise those cars were making,” the one with the cat eyes responds and starts walking forward. “My name is Minseok, by the way, and this is my friend, Yixing.”

Yixing follows after him with Jongdae and Zitao in tow.

“I’m Jongdae. This is my boyfriend, Zitao,” Jongdae responds.

Despite the absolute insanity of the night, Zitao manages to preen a little at that, a smile tugging at his lips as he straightens up. Jongdae can’t help but breathe out an endeared laugh and reaches over to take Zitao’s hand in his.

“ _Do you speak Mandarin, Zitao?_ ” Yixing asks.

“ _Yes,_ ” Zitao responds, his grin growing. “ _Chenchen does too but he sucks at it._ ”

“ _I resent that,_ ” Jongdae says in carefully.

“ _Oh, that’s not bad!_ ” Yixing says with an impressed raise of his brows.

Minseok laughs at the exchange. “That’s okay. _I only speak a little_ … too,” he responds, switching back to Korean.

The air feels lighter than it has all night, and the police station has already come into view, but there’s still something nagging at the back of Jongdae’s mind.

“I need to ask you guys something before we go in there,” he says. He stops and Zitao does too. Minseok and Yixing turn to face them.

“Sure, what is it?” Minseok says.

He mulls over the words in his mind for a moment. “Did you see the ice on the street back there?” he asks slowly.

Minseok’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly and takes in a breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“It was heading towards us, and not too long later you guys showed up,” Jongdae continues.

“Yeah—I… I can’t explain that,” Minseok says. He blinks a few times and shakes his head.

“Can you tell us what you remember at least?”

Minseok looks at Jongdae, then off to the side, furrowing his brows together. “I just know that Yixing and I were running from the cars, and we were about to get run over by them, but then that ice started growing out of nowhere. It made them lose control, but we managed to dive out of the way in time before they crashed. And that’s when we saw you two.” He seems to realize something and looks back up at Jongdae with a quirked brow. “Can I ask you something, now that I’ve answered your question?”

“Sure, that’s fair,” Jongdae concedes. He already knows what Minseok is going to ask anyways.

“How did you guys manage to stop those—”

Minseok stops short as he stares above them with an expression of confusion and alarm. Yixing follows his gaze and sucks in a sharp gasp. A large shadow is moving across their faces, and Jongdae and Zitao turn around to see what they’re looking at.

“I don’t remember there being anything about an eclipse today,” Minseok whispers.

They watch as the blazing bright, orange sun lying low in the skyline starts going pitch black. The moon, greedy and quick, consumes its light, covering the sun within a matter of seconds, leaving only a halo of light to come through.

Ice crackles under their feet and crawls down the street and up the buildings, dropping the temperature so low that they can see their breaths. The streetlamps suddenly glow blindingly bright before the bulbs blow out, the sound of shattering of glass running up and down the street.

It’s the voice in his head that terrifies Jongdae most though. It’s like a whisper that overtakes his mind, speaks right into his ears, one with no distinct timbre that blocks out everything else. He presses his hands against his ears, but he can still hear it loud and clear. Minseok and Yixing do the same, while Zitao whirls around and scans the area.

“The Prophecy has begun. I have done what I can to bring you four together. Leave this place and reunite with the remaining of the Twelve Powers where land meets sea. Do not let yourselves be caught in the gaze of red,” the voice says. It disappears as soon as it had come, leaving Jongdae to just his thoughts once more.

Jongdae lowers his hands and looks up at everyone else who were also covering their ears. “Did you guys hear all that too?” he asks. His mouth feels horribly dry.

The other three nod slowly. A long moment of silence passes through them as they try to absorb everything that’s just happened.

“I don’t understand. Aren’t the Twelve Powers supposed to be gods?” Yixing finally says.

Jongdae feels a sharp, tingling pain shoot up from his hands. He curses and shakes them before looking down. His breath catches when he sees them covered in a field of white blue bolts, warping and flashing all the way up to his elbows. He shakes his hands a few more times and the electricity dissipates.

“I guess that depends on what you mean by a god,” he says.

“What do we do now?” Zitao murmurs. He’s holding himself in his arms, rubbing the back of them with his hands for some warmth. Jongdae reaches over to pull him in and accidentally shocks him in the process.

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Jongdae asks. He hugs him from the front but is careful not to rest his hands on Zitao. Zitao nods and cuddles in close to him.

Minseok looks at his own hands now too, grimacing but rather unbothered for someone with ice shards and frost encasing them. “I guess… we go find the other Twelve? I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to piss off whoever just telepathically spoke to us.”

A rumble of thunder in the distance makes them all glance up at the sky which has inexplicably been covered in dark storm clouds while they weren’t looking. It’s only fitting that things make no sense at this point, Jongdae supposes.

“Let’s head back to mine and Minseok’s apartment and get out of this storm. I can make us some food and then we can figure out what we want to do from there,” Yixing suggests. “Come on, it’s just down the street from here.”

*******

They only spend a few more days at home, packing up and purchasing the necessities for their unintended road trip, but they figure out pretty quickly that they can’t stay in one area for too long. Whether it was cars following behind them a little too close for comfort while they were walking around the city, or their powers bursting through in public places and causing a scene, Jongdae and Zitao feel like their decision has been made for them. They really can’t stay here, especially not with the voice’s warning.

 _Do not let yourselves be caught in the gaze of red_.

Minseok and Yixing pull up in Minseok’s van. Jongdae and Zitao come out to meet them, a few duffle bags slung over their shoulders as they lock their apartment behind them.

“I wonder how long it’ll be until we come back home again,” Jongdae says.

Zitao reaches for his hand, flinching a little at the static shock that comes with it. “It’s always home wherever I’m with you,” he says, voice quiet and sincere.

In any other situation, Jongdae would laugh a little, tease him for being so cute, but right now it feels like just exactly what he needs to hear, because even though everything has changed—even though things probably will never be the same again, he will always have Zitao.

They take one look back at the closed door of their apartment and head downstairs.

*******

They’re running down the seaside cliff. Jongdae and Minseok are throwing lightning bolts and beams of frost at the shadowy figures that won’t stop materializing around them, swiping at them, and trying to ram them down. Every time their powers make contact, the shadows burst and dissipate into the air, only for another to come to take its place.

“Zitao, run ahead and start the car,” Jongdae calls as he dodges one of the shadows. “Minseok and I can hold them off.”

In the blink of an eye, Zitao disappears from his side and the headlights of their van on the ground turn on. He must have paused time and restarted it after he made it inside the car. It’s a risky move, and Jongdae is going to have to make sure Zitao is okay after they get out of this mess.

He throws another lightning bolt at the two shadows in front of him, willing himself to ignore the nausea building up in his neck. It’s not the first time they’ve had to use their powers since they left the city last week, but they’re still learning the extent of what they can do and what horrible side effects come with it. On top of the nausea, Jongdae also has started getting lightning bolt shaped scars all over his hands and arms.

Minseok’s own hands are starting to go blue with cold and his beams are getting messier. Jongdae knows they can’t keep this up for long. Yixing is running beside them, doing his best to keep out of the way of the shadows. His powers still haven’t awakened just yet. They all have a feeling that his powers might be a more intangible element like Zitao’s.

Jongdae feels his heart stop and his breath leave his lungs when he steps down and doesn’t feel the solid rock underneath his foot. He falls forward, using his arms to break his fall but it’s not without an awfully painful scraping as he slides ahead.

Minseok and Yixing stop in their tracks. “Jongdae!” they cry.

“Sorry!” he hears an unfamiliar voice call out in the distance.

“Luhan, I told you that was too close,” another voice says, exasperated.

A sharp rush of air follows, and Jongdae feels himself being lifted up from the ground. They float down to the ground where he’s placed down on the soft sand, and Jongdae catches the glimpse of a tall, lithe man fly back up away from him. He takes the moment to examine his arms. They’re cut and scraped pretty deeply, warm blood trailing down to his elbows, and pain radiates from his arms when he tries to wipe the blood of on the fabric of his jeans.

Jongdae looks back up and sees the flying man grab Minseok and Yixing in either arm. They float back down to the ground, and Minseok and Yixing come running to him.

“Let me see your arms,” Yixing says. He reaches out and takes Jongdae’s hands, flinching when the shock hits him.

“Yixing hyung, don’t,” Jongdae protests. He tries to pull his hands away but Yixing holds firm. He takes a deep breath and tries to reign the electricity back in, concentrating and feeling the physical pull of it in his arms.

Minseok sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, Jongdae, that looks pretty bad,” he says. “I think we’re gonna have to go to the hospital.”

The van rolls up next to them, and Zitao bursts out from the driver’s door, coming up to Jongdae’s side and looking at his injuries in alarm. “What happened, Chen?” he manages.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a scratch and I don’t think anything’s broken,” he says, his head spinning and his stomach churning. “I’m more worried about you. Did you stop time earlier to get to the car?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. I felt a little dizzy but I’m okay now,” Zitao replies.

“You shouldn’t have done that," Jongdae says. "It’s too risky. You need to be more careful, Taozi."

“Sorry, I told Luhan that was too risky,” the stranger interjects, a bit sheepish as he approaches them. “My name is Yifan. I think it’s safe to assume that you’re all also part of the Twelve.”

Minseok raises his hands which have water dripping from them as the frost starts to melt off. “That’s us,” he says.

A low rumbling noise makes them all look up. A mix of loose rocks and a massive disc of sand are floating in the air, and then come avalanching down onto the cliff, destroying the shadows one by one as they disappear in flashes of red. They don’t reappear this time, much to everyone’s relief.

The other man, Luhan, starts climbing his way down the cliff after the debris settles. “Hey!” he calls. “Seems like they’re gone this time.”

“Yeah, except you nearly killed someone in the process,” Yifan shouts at him with a glare.

Luhan waves him off dismissively. “Yeah, the keyword there is nearly. They’re still alive aren’t they?” He jumps off from the last rock and lands safely on the sand.

Yixing turns back to Jongdae, about to take off his backpack to pull out first aid supplies, but instead falls back in surprise. Minseok and Zitao gape at him too.

“What is it?” Jongdae asks, bending his arms and pulling them towards him to look at them. The deep gashes that were there just a second ago have somehow disappeared. The only things that are left are some newly formed lightning scars which are probably from having to use his powers earlier.

“Are you doing that?” Yixing breathes.

“No. No, not at all,” Jongdae says. He traces a finger down the length of his arm. He hadn’t even realized until now that the pain is completely gone too. “Hyung, I think you did that.”

“Well, good to know that at least one of us knows how to heal,” Luhan says. “It’d be a bit of a disaster if we didn’t.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jongdae says with a scoff. “We were doing just fine before you showed up.”

“Excuse me, who was the one got rid of all those monsters for you?” Luhan shoots back.

Zitao is glaring daggers at Luhan, eyes sharp and intense. “You didn't have to hurt Chen in the process.”

“Yeah, if you’re gonna almost kill one of us off each time just to fight some monsters, you have another thing coming for you.”

“Keyword: almost,” Luhan says, though he’s noticeably taken aback by Zitao. “You’re still alive.”

“ _Barely_.”

“Yeah, but—”

“In any case,” Minseok interrupts, glaring between the both of them, “the shadows are gone and everyone is okay. We should probably head out soon before those things come back again.”

They get introductions out of the way, and Yifan and Luhan leave to grab their car parked in the other lot so they can all head out together. Zitao helps Jongdae into the backseat of the van, with Yixing taking the driver’s seat and Minseok getting into the passenger’s.

Jongdae rests his head against Zitao’s shoulder. The nausea is slowly easing off when he closes his eyes and breathes in from his stomach. It’s just been a crazy week. They’ve been driving down the coast and trying to find any signs of other people like them, listening to the locals and hunting down stories of freak “natural phenomenons.”

Rumors about a haunted cove with a flying ghost and floating objects down the eastern coast soon reached social media, and seeing as it was their best lead so far, they drove out and bided their time around the beach. It wasn’t until a little past midnight, after all the other people had left for the night, that the shadows started showing up.

“I’m glad this actually worked out,” Yixing says. “I was afraid they might have moved on to another area already.”

“Yeah, I thought we’d only find one other person too,” Minseok replies. He’s wiping his hands down with a towel, a heat pack in his lap. “But now we’re six. Halfway there at least.”

“I can’t help but feel a little uneasy though,” Jongdae says.

“Why’s that?” Yixing asks.

“Just the fact that there’s going to be twelve of us. That’s a lot of people to put our trust in.” Jongdae feels a sharp shock run through down his skull and into Zitao’s shoulder who jumps at the sudden pain. He sits upright and touches Zitao’s shoulder, only to contract another shock. He retracts from Zitao completely and clenches his hands into fists. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Zitao. Are you okay?”

Zitao grunts but shoots him a smile. “I’m okay. I have to admit that one actually hurt this time though,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae repeats. It comes out harsher that he means for it to. He’s frustrated, angry that these powers that he never even asked for keep hurting Zitao like this. He has to get this under control, especially since it keeps getting stronger and more frequent in the past few days alone.

“Chenchen, I’m okay. I promise,” Zitao says gently.

Jongdae looks at Zitao, always so gentle and reassuring, and lets out a sigh of defeat. “If you say so.” He keeps his distance from Zitao though and rests his head against the window instead.

“Yeah, I know what you mean though, Jongdae,” Minseok says. “Just because that voice and the Prophecy says we’re gonna work together, I doubt it’s going to be that easy.”

A heavy silence falls in the van, broken only when a honk from Yifan and Luhan’s car comes through the lot.

“ _I think we can always rely on each other at least_ ,” Yixing says as he turns the key in the ignition. He turns back to look at Jongdae and Zitao. “ _Right_?”

“ _Right._ ”

“ _Hey, see Zitao? Jongdae’s Mandarin isn’t that bad_.”

“ _That’s what I’ve been saying_!”

*******

It takes them a couple months longer, but they finally find the last of the Twelve who have taken headquarters in an old mansion hidden in the forest by a rural town down south. They find Junmyeon, the owner of the mansion, sitting by the sea, commanding the direction of the waves, the strength of their crash. He tells them that he was informed of their arrival by the voice in their heads, which he believes may belong to the Goddess spoken of in the legends.

They get settled, happy to be off the road for a while, and Jongdae and Zitao take one of the rooms together. And for a while they continue like this. They train in the day, sparring with the other members of the Twelve to hone in on their powers, and keep a lookout for any shadows or unfamiliar figures roaming around the area at night. On days they’re both free from lookout duty, they spend the nights in each other’s company.

Zitao opens the door to their room, setting his water bottle down on the vanity before shutting it behind him. Jongdae is half awake, in the middle of an unplanned cat nap, and stirs at the sound.

“Hey, you’re back,” Jongdae rumbles, voice thick with sleep.

Zitao grunts and trudges over to the bed, strain and fatigue radiating from every inch of his body, before collapsing into Jongdae’s arms. A static shock snaps and makes both Jongdae and Zitao flinch at the sting.

“ _Ow, ge that hurt_ ,” Zitao grumbles into the pillow.

“ _I’m sorry. I don’t know why it keeps getting worse no matter how much I train_ ,” Jongdae says. He licks the swell of his lower lip and scrapes down on it with his teeth.

Zitao lifts his face up and offers Jongdae a tired smile. “ _You’ll get there, Chenchen_ ,” he says. “ _You always get things done whenever you set your mind to it._ ”

Jongdae sighs, placing a pillow between them as a buffer before reaching out and tentatively pulling Zitao in by his shoulders. Zitao places his cheek against the pillow, trying to get in as close as he can to the crook of Jongdae’s neck. There’s a hum of electricity that flows between them, threatening to spill over into another shock. Jongdae loosens his hold around Zitao, and it simmers down just slightly.

“I hope so,” Jongdae murmurs. He wants to press a kiss in Zitao’s hair but decides against it.

Zitao is still shuffling to try to get comfortable when he suddenly pulls away and rushes into the bathroom, covering his face.

“Taozi, are you—”

A dark flash of red in Jongdae’s peripheral vision makes him look down at the sheets. A few heavy drops of blood stain the white fabric, and Jongdae jumps off of the bed and follows Zitao into the restroom.

“I’m fine,” Zitao says as soon as Jongdae is through the door. “It’s just a nosebleed.” He’s covering his nose with toilet paper and leaning forward against the sink.

“It’s not just a nosebleed,” Jongdae insists. He watches as blood drops steadily into the porcelain sink. His tongue comes out to wet his lower lip again. “This is the third one you've had this week alone. Don't tell me you turned back time again.”

Zitao is silent for a beat too long, avoiding Jongdae’s gaze. Jongdae can't help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“Zitao—”

“It was just thirty seconds,” Zitao says defensively. “I'm getting better at it. I know I am. I can feel it. It gets easier to control each time.”

Jongdae takes the bloodied wad of toilet paper from Zitao’s hands, apologizing again when a shock jumps out and bites them, and hands him a fresh a bunch.

“But at what cost?” he says. It comes out more stern than he means for it to be so he breathes in and tries again. “I'm just worried, Taozi. No one knows how our powers are going to affect us in the long run.”

“You still use your electricity even though it gives you scars,” Zitao shoots back almost petulantly.

Jongdae frowns. “That’s different. I can’t go a day without shocking you recently. I need to learn how to control it. What if I seriously hurt you one day?”

“So you’re doing it to protect me?”

“To protect you and just—to get things back to normal again.”

“Well I’m training to protect you too,” Zitao says. He turns to look at Jongdae, eyes intense and sharp. “I don’t want to just sit to the side while you or Minseok hyung or Suho hyung sacrifice your bodies to keep us safe. We can share the weight together.”

Jongdae runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “You’re messing with time though, and that’s not tangible like electricity is. What if you get stuck in a time loop or what if this is aging your body faster than it should be?”

“I could say the same about your powers. You have scars now, but what about your heart? What if it gives out one day because you used too much electricity?”

“It’s different—”

“No, it’s not. Stop trying to stop me, hyung. You never stop Jongin from transporting. I’m time, he’s space so—”

“Because I don’t _care_ about Jongin the same way that I care about you, Zitao,” Jongdae snaps. He clenches his hands when he feels a few sparks fly from his fingers. “You should know that by now.”

A heavy silence falls between them. The blood has stopped dripping, and Zitao moves to toss the paper into the trash. Their conversation feels lost, the original intention trickling down along the drain of the sink.

“I do this because I love you too. You know that, right?” Zitao murmurs. He turns on the sink and starts rinsing off the leftover blood.

“Yes, I do,” Jongdae concedes.

“So please don’t try to stop me. I want to do this. For us.”

He sighs again. “Okay,” he says after a beat.

They go back to Jongdae’s bed together after Zitao dries up, a pillow between them.

*******

Jongdae and Zitao’s room has two beds but they’ve never slept in separate beds for as long as they’ve lived with each other. Zitao has always been an early riser but ever since they’ve started living at the mansion with the Twelve, he’s been getting up even earlier.

Jongdae thought it was partly because of his eagerness to train, partly because he genuinely enjoyed the company of the Twelve. And he wasn’t wrong. Not entirely.

It’s an early Saturday morning when he accidentally walks in on Yixing and Zitao sitting at the kitchen table. Yixing’s hands glow a soft white with his healing energy over Zitao’s back, smoothing over lightning bolt shaped scars that Jongdae is all too familiar with.

“ _I really think you should tell him about this, Zitao_ ,” Yixing murmurs. “ _It’s not good to hide things from him like this even if you mean it with a good heart._ ”

“ _Chenchen is too hard on himself_ ,” Zitao says. “ _I don’t know. Things have been tense because of everything recently. I don’t want us to get even more distant. I know I should probably tell him but I don’t know if now is the right time. And once he does know… knowing him… I just don’t want him to be mad at himself for it. It’s not his fault. We’re all still learning to control our powers_.”

Jongdae is tempted to slam the front door on his way out, but he doesn’t.

He is far past mad. He’s furious. He’s livid. He’s cursed with these powers he never asked for, tasked with saving the world when he can’t even stop himself from shocking—scarring  the person he loves the most, his lack of control in plain sight for the entire world to see.

Here he is, so so worried that Zitao was hurting himself in his training when he’s been hurting him, scarring him, _taking_ from him all while foolishly believing he’s been doing the best for him.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

His fingernails bite into the flesh of his hands as he heads into the woods. He can feel the storm clouds starting to form before he sees them, and it only does more to piss him off. It’s fucking pathetic really. He didn’t mean for this storm to happen, but it’s here now and it’s not going to go away. If he can’t control himself, he might as well learn how to control the world—be the god that it’s expecting him to be.

He run through the woods and out to the other side, the storm clouds following close behind him as they begin to pour with rain. The mansion is just a small speck in the distance. He can’t hurt anyone else from here, and so he makes the storm rage and the lightning fall.

*******

When Jongdae feels the bed dip and a familiar pair of calloused hands place themselves on his shoulders, he finds himself suddenly wide-awake. A shock surges through from his shoulders into the other’s hands, causing them to flinch.

“Zitao,” Jongdae growls.

Jongdae’s back is to Zitao, but he doesn’t need to see him to know that it’s him.

“Just let me do this,” Zitao insists, voice low and tinged with exhaustion. He’s soft and careful even as Jongdae resists and another strong pulse of electricity courses through.

After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, Zitao admits defeat and lets go. His hands trail to Jongdae’s back instead, fingers hovering over his skin at a safe distance. He traces down his spine and around the outlines of his shoulder blades, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Zitao’s fingers thrum with energy, warm and gentle even in the intense amount of power that they exude.

“You haven’t spoken to me for three days now. I’m really sorry for not telling you sooner about everything,” Zitao says. When Jongdae doesn’t respond, he continues. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. I was never mad at you.”

“But you’re mad at yourself, aren’t you?”

Jongdae doesn’t respond to that either.

“You know I could just stop and reverse time if you accidentally shock me badly, right?”

“Zitao, that doesn’t even matter if the electricity shocks you so badly that you can’t even use your powers,” Jongdae shoots back. He hates the way his voice sounds so harsh and angry but he can’t help it. “Besides, you and I both know the side effects that come with using your powers to reverse time.”

“A bloody nose and some dizziness.” Jongdae can’t see him but knows that Zitao is probably shrugging. “That’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Jongdae frowns, eyebrows pulling together in agitation. Zitao keeps doing this. He acts as if their powers are benign, conveniently forgetting that they are more than capable of being the thing that kills them.

Jongdae sits up and turns to face him. “You can’t just keep using your powers like this,” he says. “We’ve been over this already, Zitao. I _told_ you—”

“I know,” he interrupts with an edge of frustration that manages to cut its way through into his voice. He doesn’t look at Jongdae but his eyes are sharp as he glares down at the sheets.

Jongdae lies back down and stares at the ceiling. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he whispers so quietly that the words are almost lost even in the silence of the room.

“I know. I just miss you, ge,” Zitao murmurs.

Jongdae glances at him. All of Zitao’s edges have gone soft with sadness, eyes distant and glassy as he looks back at him.

“I know,” Jongdae manages to croak out. He knows his voice is going to break if he says anything more. His throat just feels too tight.

“You got new scars today, and I can’t even touch you,” Zitao continues. “Do you know how much it aches to see you like this and not being able to do anything?”

There’s a fresh piece of gauze taped on Zitao’s bicep, another new bruise blooming at his side in addition to the ones riddling his legs, all results of his constant training with the other Twelve. And yes. Yes, Jongdae does know exactly how much it aches.

Jongdae sits up and leans in tentatively, fingers ghosting the edge of his jawline, lips feathering the softest kiss on his cheek before pulling away again. There’s a spark that clicks between them and leaves a painful tingling sensation that they’ll both feel for the rest of the night. “ _I know. I miss you too_ ,” he whispers. “ _I'm so sorry, Taozi_.”

Zitao manages a teary smile from that. “ _It’s not your fault, ge._ ” He breathes in deep. Jongdae is vaguely aware of his rapid heartbeat, feeling the electrical pulses fire from where he’s sitting. “ _We’ll figure it out. We both will. I know we will._ ” He gets up, reluctant and lingering, before settling down into the bed on the other side of the room.

Jongdae lies down and turns to face him. The bed always feels so empty without him. “ _Yes, we will_.”

*******

When Jongdae wakes up the next morning, he finds that Zitao’s bed is empty but a bowl of soup and rice has been left on the nightstand. Zitao always brings up an extra portion of breakfast for Jongdae when he wakes up earlier. There’s a note in Zitao’s handwriting tucked behind the spoon, and Jongdae reaches over to grab it.

_Went out to the city with Junmyeon hyung and Sehunnie. Be back soon._

Jongdae comes downstairs after he finishes his breakfast, taking the tray down with him and going to wash the dishes. Junmyeon is sitting at the table, barely awake as he blows weakly at his coffee mug.

“Good morning,” Junmyeon murmurs.

“Good morning. You look… awake,” Jongdae says. He dries his hand on the towel and throws it back on the counter.

Junmyeon makes a low noise in protest. “Unlike some of us here, I wasn’t able to sleep in,” he grumbles.

“Zitao told me he went with you and Sehun to the city.”

“Yeah, we just went to the grocery store, and for some reason Zitao really wanted to go to the home improvement store,” he says. “He came out with a bag but wouldn’t tell us what it was. Said he wanted it to be a surprise.” He takes a long sip of his coffee.

Jongdae furrows his brows together. “Weird,” he says. “Where is he now?”

“Probably outside. He said he might train with Sehun for a while.”

“I’m gonna go look for him.” Jongdae heads for the door and shoots a glance back at Junmyeon before he leaves the room. “You should go take a nap. You look awful, hyung.”

Junmyeon shouts something about not being so rude to the owner of the house as he walks outside.

Jongdae finds Zitao sitting on the front porch, stretched out and taking in the morning sun. There’s a plastic bag next to him that Jongdae is about to grab before Zitao snatches it away from him, ever so quick with his reflexes.

“What’s that?” Jongdae asks.

Zitao pats the space next to him, which Jongdae takes at a safe distance. “It’s a present for you. Well, for us really.”

Jongdae quirks an eyebrow and tries to look into the bag. “What, did you get me a hammer or something to hit Luhan with when he’s being annoying?” he asks.

Zitao snorts. “No, but remind me never to bring you to a store with heavy duty tools,” he says.

He opens the bag and pull out what seem to be two pairs of black leather gloves with gray stripes running across the knuckles. “They’re electrician gloves,” Zitao explains. “They’re supposed to suppress shocks. I got one for you and one for me.”

Just as Jongdae opens his mouth to say something, Zitao speaks up again.

“Before you say anything, just hear me out,” he says hastily. “I know you want to figure out how to control your powers yourself through training and stuff, and I respect that.” He’s clutching the gloves against his chest, wanting to make his point before he gives them over. “And I know you might see this as something that’s going to hold you back from really figuring out how to truly control it but it’s like how in martial arts you need to learn all of the basics first because if you start with the advanced techniques first you’re just going to end up hurting yourself. So the gloves will help you start with the basics… even if your electricity is already at the advanced levels.” He says all of this without any hesitation, as if it was a speech he’s been practicing verbatim.

Jongdae stares at him for a moment and lets his gaze fall down to the gloves. It’s funny sometimes how well Zitao knows him. “You really thought a lot about this, didn’t you?” he asks. He holds his hand out to Zitao who carefully places the smaller pair of gloves in his grasp.

“Yes,” Zitao replies. He offers him a small smile with hopeful eyes and watches as Jongdae examines the gloves. “I just really wanted to help somehow, and it hurts to see all those scars on you. Will you wear them?”

Jongdae tears the packaging off of the gloves and pulls one on each hand. It’s a good fit. The thick fabric conforms snugly to his fingers and still manages to give him enough dexterity.

“I feel a little like a dog on a leash,” Jongdae admits with a frown. He softens his expression when he sees Zitao’s face drop a little. “But if it means that much to you I’ll try it out.”

Zitao gasps. He beams at him, so bright and delighted that it makes Jongdae’s heart feel lighter too. “Will you really?” he asks.

Jongdae sighs in feigned exasperation. “For you and only you, I will,” he says, and he can’t help but smile back at him.

Zitao, completely pleased with himself, straightens up and starts taking off the packing on his pair. “You know, I also had an ulterior motive for getting these.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Jongdae asks, raising a brow curiously.

He reaches over, takes Jongdae’s gloved hand in his, and squeezes it tight. There’s no shock, no jolt or surge of electricity. “So we can hold hands.” He seems a little embarrassed when he says it out loud, smiling but avoiding Jongdae’s eyes.

Zitao lets go to put on his own pair sitting in his lap, and then squeezes the exposed skin of Jongdae’s knee. “Plus, if I wear them too, I can touch you without getting shocked. I can help when you’re aching or need bandages.”

Jongdae is so endeared, so undeniably in love with him. He watches Zitao, so warm and gentle, as he glows golden underneath the sun’s rays. Zitao looks back up at him and meets his gaze.

“What is it?” Zitao asks, returning an affectionate smile.

“This was just really sweet of you. Thank you,” Jongdae says. He takes Zitao’s gloved hand in his and intertwines their fingers together.

They spend the rest of the morning on the front porch together, hand in hand.

*******

Jongdae sits at the top of the hill with Yixing by his side as they watch a training match between Zitao and Kyungsoo. Jongdae’s just finished a session with Minseok where he didn’t take off his gloves the entire time, testing what points of electricity are the strongest next to his hands.

“It seems to favor the extremities, so if it’s not my hands, it’s my feet,” Jongdae explains. “So kicks are a powerful option, but I really have to work on my balance… Minseok hyung wouldn’t stop laughing at me,” he adds in a grumble.

Yixing covers a laugh with the back of his hand. “Practice makes perfect,” he says. “You should have Zitao teach you his form.”

“He’s just gonna tease me more too. Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jongdae laments. He’s joking really, but he can’t lie and say that their teasing didn’t hurt his pride just a bit.

Yixing laughs again. “He only does it because he loves you.”

Jongdae smiles at that and lets the moment pass. He starts taking off his gloves to give his hands some air and stacks them onto each other on the grass. He outstretches his hands and balls them into fists, repeating the motion and feeling satisfied when no electricity flies out.

“Jongdae,” Yixing says, “out of curiosity, how long exactly have you been with Zitao?”

“We’re going on 6 years now, I think,” he says. “But I’ve known him for about 8 years. We met when I was about 15.”

Yixing smiles gently. “That’s cute,” he coos. “Do you have plans on getting married?”

Jongdae grins, just a little embarrassed at the sudden question, and rubs the nape of his neck. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “I just want the moment to be perfect, you know? But things have been a little crazy recently.”

Yixing hums in acknowledgement. “As soon as this all blows over, you should propose to him. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen any two people who trust each other as much as you two do. I could even tell when we first met.”

“Really? How?” Jongdae faces him with a raised brow.

“Well, you know, when we would all be running together, or even when we were just walking,” Yixing explains, lifting his index fingers and holding them close together, “you’d always keep each other in sight—like making sure you could watch out for each other.”

“Oh,” Jongdae says. He pauses. “You noticed that?”

“It’s hard not to. You have a very intense way of watching people, Chen. Plus your eyes are so dark. It’s kind of scary sometimes,” Yixing admits with a laugh.

An ear splitting crack draws Jongdae’s and Yixing’s attention back to the battle. They watch as Kyungsoo splits a particularly large boulder in two. He manages to levitate one of the pieces into the air and flings it towards Zitao.

Zitao holds out his hands and slows the boulder down to a complete stop. As it floats in mid air he turns his hands clockwise, and the once solid piece of earth pales to a lifeless gray color, crumbling by the time Zitao makes a half rotation.

It’s a new technique that Zitao figured out he could use just recently. He didn’t have to stop time for the entire timeline, but instead could focus in on certain objects, even aging or de-aging them at will. It proved to result in significantly less side effects while still being something useful he could use in battle.

Jongdae can’t help but worry over Zitao though. While Zitao is strong, he’s not invincible, but he loves to push himself as if he is. Jongdae squeezes his hands into fists and sits forward.

Kyungsoo waves a hand over the other half of the boulder, and it cracks into a hundred pieces. He throws them again at Zitao who stops the rocks again in mid air then rewinds them so that they fly back towards Kyungsoo in a perfect arc.

Kyungsoo is expecting that though. He summons a shield of dirt and sand in front of him that blocks the rocks coming towards him. They dissolve when they pass through the shield into a fine dust. He throws the shield down when all the rocks are gone and raises both hands into the air. The ground rumbles and sways, boulders lodge themselves from underground, barrelling towards Zitao at full force. Zitao manages to stop a few of the boulders but they’re just too quick, too strong. They slam into him and throw him backwards, soon piling up until he’s completely out of sight.

Both Jongdae and Yixing jump up to their feet. They aren’t supposed to intervene in the middle of spars, but Jongdae’s heart is pounding so hard and after a few long seconds of absolute silence, he can’t take it anymore.

“ZITAO!” His name rips through Jongdae’s throat, broken and terrified. He runs down the hill, stumbling through the craters in the earth from the aftermath of Kyungsoo’s attack. He starts tearing through the pile of boulders, driven completely by fear and adrenaline as he pull them away one by one.

“Please, Zitao. Please, you can’t—I can’t.”

His hands are shaking so badly and sparks are flying off madly from his fingertips. He curses loudly and tries to shake the electricity off before continuing to dig through. At the back of his mind, he realizes he could just tell Kyungsoo to move the rocks, but he can’t. He’s the one who _put_ him there.

And then he sees blood, then a tuft of jet black hair, and before he can move another rock, they’re levitating away, and Jongdae can see _him_. There are nasty purple bruises and bloody cuts staining Zitao’s all over his body. His eyes are screwed shut and he lets out a pained groan.

He's alive. Thank god, he's alive.

Jongdae reaches out to him. He needs to make sure he’s okay. He needs to feel the electricity pulsing through his body, the steady, determined drum of his heartbeat.

But then he stops. His gloves are still back up at the top of the hill with Yixing. His hands are releasing wild surges of electricity. He can’t touch him, and especially not now, not when he’s this emotionally raw.

Yixing is there by his side before Jongdae can register his name in his mind. “Chen, I’ll take care of him,” he says quietly. “Everything is going to be okay. He will be okay, but you need to let me take him.”

Jongdae takes a numb step back. He lets Yixing take Zitao from the pile of the shattered earth, tries to ignore that sharp pain of envy that digs its way into his chest while he watches Yixing touch Zitao, _hold_ him without a second thought.

But more than anything he’s grateful to Yixing—Yixing who saves and heals and has done more for them than Jongdae can ever repay him for. He watches as Yixing kneels and leans Zitao’s back against him. He presses a hand against his heart and Zitao’s entire body glows a soft white. It helps Zitao gain consciousness though his injuries are still visible, and he glances between Jongdae and Yixing.

“Hey,” he croaks. He lets out a groan of pain.

“Zitao,” Jongdae whispers harshly. “You need to go back to the house and let Yixing heal you. Do you understand?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Yes,” he says. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“ _You really scared us there_ ,” Yixing says. He combs his fingers through Zitao’s hair which creates webs of healing light that run down his neck. It pools in especially around his open wounds, sealing them up to stop the bleeding. “ _You’re going to have to rest for a week at least. No more sparring or practicing at all_.”

Zitao groans again. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, extending the word.

“ _You’re really whining at a time like this?_ ” Yixing asks. A small laugh betrays him. “ _Don’t you know you scared Chenchen half to death?_ ”

Zitao looks at Jongdae with apologetic eyes. “ _I’m sorry, gege. I wanted to show off too much today._ ”

“ _No,_ ” Jongdae says. He has to resist the urge to reach over and stroke his cheek. “ _It’s not your fault, but I told you not to push yourself so much. You’re hurt really badly this time_.”

A low whistle gets their attention. Jongdae and Yixing turn to see Luhan trailing right behind Kyungsoo who must have run back to the house to grab him.

“Holy shit, Kyungsoo,” Luhan drawls. “I know you get intense about training but this is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know if he’s got any broken bones but I figured it’d be better not to risk anything,” Kyungsoo says, ignoring Luhan’s comment.

Jongdae sets his jaw and turns back to Zitao. “Oh, so he suddenly decides to have a conscience now,” he says airily.

Luhan snorts as he approaches the other three. “ _Here, you two move. I can lift him up._ ” When Yixing and Jongdae are out of the way, Luhan flicks a hand up and Zitao gently levitates into the air. “ _Alright, back to the house, Zitao. You’re grounded. No more desserts for you_.”

“ _Ge, stop being embarrassing_ ,” Zitao grumbles as Luhan directs him back.

“ _Chenchen, are you coming with us?_ ” Yixing asks, dusting the dirt off of his knees.

He turns to look at Kyungsoo this time who's staring back at him with a steady expression. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m going to talk to Kyungsoo first.”

Yixing hesitates before lifting a hand to cup Jongdae’s jaw and gently tilts his face to look at him. He winces at the shock but doesn't pull away. “ _Zitao is going to want to see you, so make sure to come back soon. Okay?_ ”

Jongdae moves out of Yixing’s touch and softens his expression. “ _Okay, I’ll be there soon_ ,” he replies.

Yixing, Luhan, and Zitao head out, and once Jongdae is sure they’re out of earshot, he turns back to Kyungsoo with a hard glare.

“Jongdae—”

“You almost killed him,” Jongdae interrupts. He clenches his hand into a fist.

“Jongdae,” he starts again. The tone of his voice is tight thinly masked exasperation. “I had everything under control. You didn’t need to step in.”

Jongdae laughs bitterly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I have to say, I underestimated you, Kyungsoo. I didn’t think you were _this_ stupid,” he spits. “Since you clearly don’t understand, the phrase ‘under control’ doesn’t mean suffocating someone under a couple tons of earth.”

“We’ve been through this already. You and I have different philosophies when it comes to training and you need to—”

Jongdae flares at Kyungsoo’s words, and he stares at him in disbelief for a moment, hands shaking in a dirty mix of leftover panic and rage as small lightning bolts fly from his fingertips. “Excuse me? Different _philosophies_?” Jongdae snaps. “Is that really what you’re going to call it? For fuck’s sake, you would have _murdered_ him if it wasn’t for me.”

“Zitao can take it. He specifically told me not to hold back and that he would give me a sign if we needed to stop,” Kyungsoo retorts coldly. He’s so composed, so calm that it only pisses Jongdae off even more. “Do you really think I would murder one of our own?”

“Holy shit, are you fucking serious? You literally _covered_ him with boulders. We couldn’t even _see_ him until I moved them away. He could barely even speak, much less breathe.” Jongdae can’t control the shrillness that escapes in his voice nor the bolts that start growing and consuming his arms, the sharp, burning smell of ozone filling the area. “Do you really think that he was even capable of giving you his sign of surrender in this state?”

“Yes, because unlike you, I trust in his abilities—”

A lightning bolt shoots out from Jongdae’s hand and runs towards Kyungsoo in a flash. He manages to dodge it but just barely. The ground where it hits is marked with the same scars etched onto Jongdae’s skin.

All Jongdae can hear is the electricity pulsing through his body, a loud, surging thrum of power. He can’t even hear his own heartbeat even though he can feel it pounding against his chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jongdae snarls, retracting his hand. “Who are you to say that I don’t trust Zitao? Don’t act like you know him. I trust him more than anyone else, but I know his limitations which you so willingly ignore for your own fucking selfish motives.”

Kyungsoo raises both of his arms, pulling boulders out from under the earth where Jongdae is standing with a deafening crack. Jongdae tumbles backwards and lands painfully onto his shoulders.

“We have a war to fight for the Goddess, and if he doesn’t learn to put his powers to use, then he might as well be dead. Don’t you realize that you’re holding him back by coddling him like this? _You_ can’t even control your own powers. What makes you think you can control his?” Kyungsoo shouts at him.

Jongdae doesn’t think before standing up, reaching his hand up to the sky, and pulling the very electricity in the air down towards Kyungsoo. A thick bolt branches down and lights up the sky with a blinding flash. Kyungsoo tries to dodge again, but this time it hits him square on the shoulder. He crumples over, shaken by the pain.

A bolt that strong normally would have killed anyone else, but Kyungsoo was his opposite, his counterpart: solid, steady earth to balance out violent, volatile electricity. And Jongdae fucking hates that. He hates that he’s made to seem the fool, an incompetent _human_ who can’t control the electricity coursing through his veins.

Jongdae throws out his hand again with his palm facing towards Kyungsoo and summons all the electricity in his body that he can. It gathers in an orb at his palm, growing in size as he holds onto it. His stomach is churning. He’s never summoned bolts this large before in succession but he doesn’t care. Right now, he’s in control, he’s the one using his electricity, and he wants to break Kyungsoo. This time, he’s the one choosing to burn him with the same scars that run up and down his arms.

Just as he’s about to release the orb, Jongdae feels himself being slammed down hard onto the ground. He lands on his back and the breath is knocked out of his lungs.

“Fuck—what, Zitao?”

Zitao has his hands pinned on Jongdae’s shoulders. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are scrunched shut, most of the bruises and cuts still visible on his skin.

“Zitao, get off of me right now. You’re going to get hurt. What were you thinking?” Jongdae shouts.

He realizes belatedly that he can’t feel the electricity in his body—but more importantly, he’s not shocking Zitao. He looks around and sees Kyungsoo frozen in the air mid stumble, then he looks at his hands and sees the orb, completely still and no longer snarling with energy. Somehow Zitao has stopped the very element coursing through Jongdae’s body, and by the look on his face, he’s just as surprised as Jongdae is.

“Ge, you need to stop. You’re hurting yourself,” Zitao manages to say, breaking Jongdae from his thoughts. “Kyungsoo was just helping me train so don’t be angry at him.”

“That doesn’t matter right now. You’re using your powers when you haven’t even finished healing yet,” Jongdae insists. “You need to start time again before—”

“No, please stop,” Zitao says. He open his eyes and looks at Jongdae pleadingly, reaching down to run his thumb across Jongdae’s cheek. “Look at this, you already have so many new scars. So stop. Please don’t hurt Kyungsoo—don’t kill him.”

It’s ridiculous the effect that Zitao has on him. Just a few simple words and the fury that overtook his body is starting to lose its edge. Jongdae looks down at his hands, the electric orb burning its image into his sight, and then back at Zitao. “He almost killed you. You almost _died_. He deserves to get what he did to you,” he says.

“Do you think I can’t take care of myself?” Zitao asks gently. He’s not angry, not even hurt, just genuinely wondering.

“It’s not that I don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. I know you can. It’s just—I don’t trust him,” Jongdae explains, glancing back at Kyungsoo. He stumbles over his words, trying to make his point as quickly as he can so Zitao will stop using his powers. “I don’t trust him to know when to stop. I mean I’ve barely even started to trust Junmyeon or Yifan—”

“ _Chenchen, you have to go to heaven with me. You promised me that you would be with me wherever we go, right?_ ” Zitao says.

Jongdae’s words falter in his throat. Memories of that night that feel like a lifetime ago now flood into his mind—he promised him that he would do better for him, be better. In all honesty, Jongdae still doesn’t feel like he’s wrong to want to protect him like this. He’s only giving Kyungsoo the same treatment he gave to Zitao, but if this is what will give Zitao peace of mind, if this is what he thinks is right…

“ _I almost lost you because of what he did_ ,” Jongdae whispers.

Zitao reaches down and cups both of his cheeks. “ _I know. I’m so sorry for scaring you,_ ” he murmurs and leans down to feather a kiss on his lips. “ _But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be more careful next time. I won’t let anything or anyone take me away from you._ ”

Jongdae takes a deep breath and watches Zitao for a beat longer before answering. He doesn’t need Zitao to promise or swear it out loud to him, not when it’s written out so plainly on his face to see.

“ _Okay,_ ” he says.

“ _Thank you, ge_ ,” Zitao says. His eyes begin to flutter shut, and Jongdae realizes that time is starting back up again.

Jongdae, panicking because Zitao is falling right towards him and the orb is still being held in his hand, aims it towards the dirt at the base of the hill, away from them all. It’s a long, slowed down couple of seconds before the orb releases itself from his hand in a beam elongating itself forward. He immediately turns and holds his arms out for Zitao, who’s no more than a few centimeters away, reigning in what little electricity is left in his body.

“Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t fucking hurt him,” he prays out loud.

Zitao falls forward at full speed. In the brief moment before he lands onto his chest, Jongdae is hyper aware of the electricity coursing through him. He can feel every volt in his body—the way that they brim with energy, the way that they surge throughout his body—but this time they stop. They don’t try to bite his way out of his skin, find another host to flow into. This time, they pull back, fall underneath the surface, and bend to his command.

There’s only the smallest of static shocks that hits him when they make contact, and after that, nothing. Jongdae can feel the way his pulses flow with Zitao’s, quiet and calm, never trying to surge forward and jump out. He gingerly places his hands on Zitao’s shoulders and lifts him up. He staggers slightly as the dizziness in his head makes the ground feel like liquid but manages to stand up and keep them both upright.

Now caught up with present time, Kyungsoo stumbles forward but catches himself before he falls. He lifts his palm up to counter an attack but immediately stops when he sees Zitao with Jongdae. A brief look of confusion flashes on his face before he understand what has happened.

“We can talk later,” Kyungsoo says. He lets his hand fall, graceful enough to bow his head in acknowledgement.

*******

Minseok lets out an exasperated groan when Jongdae and Zitao make it back and doesn’t stop scolding Jongdae while they wait for Yixing to finish up with Zitao in his and Jongdae’s bedroom.

“You can’t just fight him like that,” Minseok says in a harsh whisper. “We’re supposed to be on the same side, remember?”

“I know,” Jongdae mumbles. “But he went too far. Yixing could tell you. He was there with us.”

Minseok massages the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Alright, I’ll talk to Junmyeon but… you really can’t do that again, Jongdae” he says.

“I won’t as long as Kyungsoo doesn’t either,” Jongdae says, tilting his chin up.

“Stubborn as always…”

The door opens and reveals a tired, soft around the edges Yixing. “He’s okay now. He’ll just need to sleep the rest off,” he says.

“You didn’t push yourself too much, did you?” Jongdae asks, walking up to Yixing.

Yixing reaches out and takes his hand before Jongdae can react. He smiles big and proud when Jongdae doesn’t shock him.

“Well, would you look at that,” he says. He uses his other hand and pats Jongdae gently on the cheek. “ _I’m okay, Chenchen. I just need some rest now too. Let’s eat dinner together later, okay?_ ”

Jongdae nods, and Minseok wraps his arms around Yixing as they walk out together.

“I’m not done yelling at you, by the way,” Minseok says, looking back to squint at Jongdae.

Jongdae raises his hands up in defeat and waits until they’ve turned down the hall before heading into his and Zitao’s bedroom.

Zitao is fast asleep, tucked in comfortably against the pillows with the blankets wrapped all around him. Jongdae sits down at the edge of the bed, tentatively brushing Zitao’s fringe to the side. There’s no shock this time either, but he can’t help but wonder if this is even going to last.

“Chen, is that you?” Zitao murmurs.

“It’s me,” Jongdae says, voice low and quiet.

“Can you lay down with me?” he asks.

Jongdae pulls himself further onto the bed and leans his back onto the pillows. Zitao shifts around before finding Jongdae’s chest and resting his head against him.

“Stay here with me, okay?” Zitao says.

Jongdae runs a hand through Zitao’s hair, scratching the back of his head and letting Zitao lean into his touch.

“I’m right here with you.”

*******

Jongdae rolls the white gold ring between his fingers and watches as the fiery sunlight glints off of it. He bought it about a year ago when they were still living in their small apartment in the city, after Zitao had stared at it for a little too long when they passed by a jewelry store in the shopping district.

He slips the ring back into its box when he feels Zitao’s electrical pulses surge up the stairs. He places it back into the shoes he only ever wears on special occasions, closes the lid to the shoebox, and tucks it back on the upper shelf of their closet.

When Zitao opens the door with bright grin and damp hair from just having taken a shower, Jongdae is in the middle of pulling on a gray hoodie. Jongdae’s head pops out of the sweater’s opening, and Zitao holds out a hand to him.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks.

Jongdae returns his smile, pulls the sweater on completely, and walks over to take his hand. There’s just the smallest of a shock before it settles into a quiet thrum. “Yeah, let’s go.” They close the door behind them, Zitao leading the way, the scent of their detergent, soap, and shampoo wafting in the air.

One day soon, when this is all over—Jongdae will make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> To the prompter, I hope I did your prompt justice! This started out as a very small fic and evolved into something much bigger. MAMA!AU, especially EXO-M focused, has been something I have been wanting to write for a long while so I took this and ran with it. Certain plot points in this fic were not fully elaborated on as they are part of a much bigger AU which I hope to one day write out in its entirety. 
> 
> I hope you all have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Special thanks to N for the amazing plot ideas whenever I got stuck, M for meta that really helped with my characterization of Jongdae, H for beta reading in the early stages of this fic, and Mods Laces and Heels for their endless patience with my late submission.


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